Searching
by lupincantwrite
Summary: Blaine runs away from a broken home, with the intention of escaping from his past and starting afresh in a new city, but being an unqualified high school dropout, he has to resort to prostitution in order to make enough money to survive. Eventual Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine was completely apathetic to the whispers surrounding him, and the way in which quite a few nosey passers-by were staring.  
>As far as he was concerned, he was finished with other people. That was it. He was done.<p>

Now, he stood in the middle of a train station, with a noticeable bruise under his eye, and the curious and sometimes sympathetic looks he was receiving didn't phase him in the slightest. Before, he might have felt embarrassed, but not now.

Not anymore.

He was too numb to care about what anyone else thought of him. In the past, when he **had** cared, and had attempted to reach out to others, desperate to ease the loneliness that he was constantly filled with, everyone already seemed to have formed a solid opinion of him. It was useless.

_That kid who always walks around town by himself, late at night. The loner. I heard it said around school that he's a complete freak. He's a fag, too, isn't he? No wonder the other guys want to stay away from him. I never see him with other people, at all. What do you think his problem is? Psh, weirdo._

Blaine heard the whispers when he walked along the school corridor. He knew how the other students felt.  
>It started off with a few hurtful names and mean words being thrown around, but soon enough, he was being ganged up on outside of the school grounds on a regular basis.<br>Name-calling escalated to threatening. Threatening escalated to shoving. Shoving escalated to being kicked and punched, which once lead to a broken wrist and loss of consciousness. The only thing he could console himself with was that graduation wasn't too far away. It was the only happy thought that he had left to cling onto, and the only glimpse of hope that he could find.

He approached the ticket machine and randomly picked a destination that was distant enough to **really** feel like he had gotten away from here, but still close enough to be within his budget. The furthest he could afford was still in Ohio, but it would do. This place wasn't home to him anymore. He hadn't felt comfortable here since he was a child.  
>The bruise on his face that was currently turning a few heads hadn't come from his bullies, either, like several of the faded ones that were scattered around his chest had. It had come from his father.<p>

* * *

><p>After years of trying to deny the rumour that had always been spread across the town, Blaine finally admitted to his parents earlier in the evening that he was, in fact, gay. At first, his father had said nothing. He stood up and left the room, and though Blaine now regretted it, he had followed his dad into the kitchen.<p>

"_Dad, I – "  
><em>_"I don't want to hear it, Blaine. Just leave me alone for now. I'd like to think about this."  
><em>_"But, dad, this doesn't change anything. I – I'm still... I'm still me..."  
><em>_"Blaine," he mumbled, sounding a little aggressive. "Leave. I just... can't talk to you right now. I said I needed to think, and I don't want to have to repeat myself."_

Blaine choked back tears as his father stared out of the kitchen window, with his eyes fixed on the neighbour's fence, as if it had suddenly become interesting. After a few moments of painful silence, when he noticed that Blaine had stood his ground, he turned his head to meet his son's eyes. _"This phase better end pretty soon. That's all I'm saying."_ Blaine lowered his gaze to the floor, then to his hands, which were awkwardly fumbling with the ends of his shirt. _"But, dad, it's... definitely not a phase. I've felt this way for as long as I can remember." _His father simply tutted and rolled his eyes. _"Don't give me that, Blaine. This is another one of your cries for attention, isn't it? You're not g– ... you dated that girl, once. Don't make up disgusting stuff like this, just to be the centre of attention again. You're 17. You need to grow up. Act like a man, not a little boy."_

**Act like a man? **Huh. That's what Blaine knew his dad really wanted. That's why he was so touchy about this. He wanted Blaine to be **a man**. A traditional, tough, family man. And the thought of having a gay son? No. No, that just wouldn't do. Disgusting. Immoral. Embassassing. Not good enough.

Blaine was never good enough.

_"Firstly, that was three years ago, and I only dated __her for a couple of days to see if I could force myself to be normal. E__very time she tried to kiss me, it felt... I don't know! Wrong! Jesus Christ, Dad, why would I make something like this up?"_

As Blaine raised his voice and felt his level of anger slowly rise above his level of nervousness and fear, his father stood up and approached him. By the end of the day, he thoroughly regretted how loudly he had ended up shouting at his dad. He regretted the years of bottled up pain that had been released in one night. He regretted calling him a bad father, an alcoholic, pathetic – a joke.  
>He sat in the train station, with his face in his hands, and thought back to seeing his mother crying in the doorway, as he and his father had roared at one another; how she had pleaded with them both to calm down. But Blaine had long been ready to burst with anger, and once he had let some of it show, he was unable to hold back.<p>

It all came out.

All of the anger caused by years of abuse from his peers, years of being both belittled and often ignored by his father, years of self-hatred, and years of depression.  
>He had screamed. He had cried. He had thrown every insult he could possibly think of. He had finally snapped. But his father wasn't having any of it.<br>By now, the night was a blur, but Blaine could still remember his father muttering about how **anyone** would be _"ashamed to have a faggot as a son,"_ and that this definitely wasn't the first time the family had been let down by him. Blaine retaliated, saying that **he** wasn't the disappointment in the family, and before long, a punch was thrown.

After staggering back onto his feet, feeling fairly light-headed, Blaine took one last look at his father, with hatred and tears in his eyes, before running upstairs, gathering all of the money he could find, grabbing a few things, and heading straight to the train station.

* * *

><p>The entire day raced through his mind as he sat and waited for the train to arrive. There were too many overwhelming thoughts and worries in his head for anything to seem coherent.<br>**Where am I supposed to go? What if I can't find somewhere to work... or stay? What if...  
><strong>Blaine shook his head and tried not to get too worked up, as he saw the train approaching. There was nothing left for him here. When he did leave, he was convinced that nobody would even care, and that's what hurt the most. _"If he had killed me today, nobody would have even noticed,"_ he quietly mumbled to himself, as the train pulled to a halt. _"I – I need to start over... Come on, Blaine. You can do this."_

With a nervous sigh, Blaine stood up, and avoided eye contact with the station employee as his ticket was checked. With no plans set for when he arrived, no arrangements made in terms of accommodation, and no idea of how he was going to get by, he stepped onto the train, and didn't look back. Anywhere was better than here, and he was sure that somehow, he would find a way to manage.


	2. Chapter 2

When he arrived in Lima, the place which he would be calling home from this point forward, Blaine was exhausted. The train journey felt as though it had lasted a year, and the main thing on his troubled mind was sleep. On the way, he had counted $302 in his bag. That would be enough to check into a hotel and get by for a few days, at least. He reassured himself that by the time his funds had run dry, he would have found a job.  
>Continuing to tell himself that everything was going to work out calmed him a little – even though he was far from being convinced.<p>

After wandering around the city like a lost sheep for just over thirty minutes, Blaine emitted a sigh of relief, once a hotel finally came into view. There was so much that he knew needed to be planned out, but his head was pounding, his stomach felt sick, and his legs were growing tired. The decision that everything serious could wait until the morning was an easy one.  
>He entered the hotel, greeted the friendly-looking lady at the desk, and booked a room with a single bed. Room 23 was nicer than he had expected it to be, with a modern looking TV, shower and internet access, but specifics didn't matter right now. He didn't even bother changing before getting into bed. Although Blaine's body was desperate for some rest, his mind seemed adamant to stop that from happening.<p>

Worries about tomorrow, and disgust at his father hitting him – actually **hitting** him – were two of the many things that were managing to prevent him from getting the sleep that he genuinely needed. He tried to shut the bad thoughts out._"Stop thinking too much, idiot. It's not like anyone's going to miss me. Not even Mom and D–"_ But Blaine stopped that thought, before he finished the sentence in his mind.

His mother would care.

She was probably the only person in the world that would care, and now, guilt was thrown into the mess of emotions stirring in a boy that was too young to deal with all of this.  
>Once he had spent at least an hour tossing and turning, trying everything he could think of to block out the horrible thoughts in his mind, Blaine eventually fell asleep, with tears still drying on his face.<p>

He dreamed of his mother.  
>In the dream, she didn't say anything. She simply sat alone in their living room, crying. Blaine had taken his first steps in that room. He used to watch TV, curled up on the sofa beside his mother, in the exact same spot that he could now see her sitting in, trying to hide her tears from her drunken husband.<br>The hands that Blaine used to hold while he crossed the road, _because it was scary without a grown-up_, were now being held out, in an attempt to defend herself as her husband tried to hit her. Then, screaming was the only thing that Blaine could hear.  
>He ran toward his father, ready to lunge at him, when –<p>

Blaine felt his body jerk forward as he frantically awoke, sweating a little. Glancing to the side, he noticed that the small clock on his bedside table read "07:49". It was earlier than he was used to, but that dream definitely wasn't something he wanted to be thrown back into.

* * *

><p>Once he had showered and eaten the breakfast that was included with his hotel stay, Blaine left, and began to explore the city. Each time he passed by an open store, he stopped to inquire about whether or not they had any jobs available. The first five had nothing available, but that didn't worry him. Then the next ten had nothing to offer.<p>

Slightly more worrying.

All of the managers apologized with a lack of sincerity, said how the recession had hit everyone pretty hard, and sent Blaine on his way. Annoyed and nervous with how bad things were beginning to look, he drearily continued to look for somewhere, anywhere, to offer him something.

He found nothing.

Seeing as he had run away before finishing school, Blaine was fully aware that a low-paying job in a grocery store, or something of the sort, was the best that he could hope for. But that was okay. That was all that he wanted for now. Just enough to get by, and start anew – away from his past.

He stopped his search to have dinner, then again to rest his legs when he came across a park that was lined with benches. A couple of children were playing nearby, chasing each other on the grass, and Blaine managed to crack a smile for the first time in two days at how happy and innocent they seemed. He watched two little girls laughing on a swing set. It reminded him of the countless times he had begged his own mother to take him to the park a few blocks away from their house, and how she –  
><strong>Oh. His mother.<strong>  
>The smile quickly faded, until his expression was blank.<em> "This is pointless,"<em> he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair. This place seemed to be pretty big, and although he was beginning to panic, Blaine kept stupidly reassuring himself that if he didn't find something today, there **had** to be somewhere else that would want him tomorrow.

Until the sky had darkened and the temperature had fallen, Blaine stayed in the park, smiling faintly to himself at the loud conversations that the children were having while they played. One of the mothers who had arrived and sat on the same bench as Blaine struck up a conversation with him. She proudly pointed toward a little boy that Blaine assumed was no more than six or seven. He was right. The woman, who introduced herself as Kathy, informed him that her son had just turned six.  
>As they talked, Blaine watched the young boy run across the grass with quite a large group of his friends, laughing as they played around with a ball. It was obvious how much this woman loved her child, and as she talked about how proud she was of all of his little achievements, it caused a lump to form in Blaine's throat. He wanted nothing more than to break down and cry about everything he had been forced to go through, but instead, he hid how he truly felt.<br>He made up stories about his _perfect_ family who lived nearby. He shared the hilarious tales behind a few of the fake happy childhood memories that he had always longed for. The stories about the crazy antics he had gotten up to with the friends he never had. The non-existent happy times he had spent with his family, that had all been fabricated on the spot.  
>He watched the little boy laugh with his friends, and remembered what it had felt like to sit alone and talk to himself, while the other boys laughed and played, when Blaine was only six.<p>

They carried on with their light-hearted conversation as normal, until it was time for Kathy and her son to go home, and time for Blaine to come back to reality. He watched them walk away, hand in hand, and smiled weakly at the sight, feeling bittersweet.

* * *

><p>It was after nine pm, and it had gotten fairly cold. Deciding that heading back to the hotel was the best option, Blaine stood up, put his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, and left the park. He accidentally turned left instead of right in the unfamiliar city, and walked in the wrong direction for ten minutes. Then, he almost bumped into a pole, which was enough to make him realize that he needed to pay more attention to what was going on around him, and stop over-thinking. His mind was overwhelmed, and it was giving him a headache.<p>

It wasn't until he had walked for over half an hour and passed all of the places which had turned him away, that Blaine noticed _just how many_ stores he had inquired in, and just how much ground had been covered today. Once it was clear that he was still going in the right direction, a quick break, leaning against a wall to rest his legs seemed necessary. He momentarily let his eyes fall shut as he took in a deep breath of cold air, in an attempt to clear his mind a little.

It didn't work.

The money that was left would only guarantee one more night in the hotel, then there was food to worry about, and...

Blaine worried his bottom lip between his teeth, staring blankly at the ground, as he tried to come up with _some_ way of getting around this.

Several people had walked past Blaine and had paid no attention to him, but no more than two minutes had passed when a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, or possibly late twenties, approached him.

"_... How much?"_  
><em>"Sorry, what?"<em> Blaine raised an eyebrow as he leaned a little closer to the man, assuming he had misheard him, after making no sense of the question he had been asked. The stranger seemed... uncomfortable? Blaine wasn't sure if that was it. He wasn't making eye contact, and he kept his voice relatively low, which made it difficult for Blaine to hear him.  
><em>"I said... how much? How much do you charge?"<em>  
>There was no mistaking what had been asked, this time.<br>_"Oh, I – no, no, I'm not –"_ Blaine stepped away from the wall he had been leaning against, suddenly realizing what this must have looked like.  
><em>"No, I was just leaning here, I – I'm not.."<em> The stranger didn't appear to be embarrassed, or taken aback. Instead, he let out a quiet laugh. Blaine simply stared, unsure of what to do. He noticed the man looking up and down at his body, before meeting the younger boy's widened eyes for the first time. He smiled, while Blaine stared blankly. _"Name your price. I'll meet it." _Blaine took a step back. _"No, I – I mean, I'm... I..." _

He could feel his hands starting to tremble slightly_. "You can fool yourself all you want, Blaine. With your qualifications, the chances of you getting a job tomorrow are as good as they were today,"_ he thought to himself. But... could he really do this? Could he sink this low? He had convinced himself that anything was better than home, but... **this**?

"_What do you... want, exactly?"_ Blaine realized how stupid the question was, once he heard it out loud, and felt disgusted with himself for even considering the proposal. _"Look, you're a pretty boy. And you don't seem to be slow. I'm not going to force anything on you, but my offer stands. I'll meet your price, because you're definitely the best looking I've seen around here." _

After the bewilderment of somebody actually finding him **appealing **had sunk in, half of Blaine's mind seemed to be screaming at him to run away. The other half was telling him to give in, because it had already lost all hope.  
>He was Blaine Anderson. A worthless, unqualified teenager, who barely had enough money to survive for the rest of the week. He had almost no self-respect, as it was. He had nothing to live for. He was lonely. He was empty, with no motivation.<p>

He was broken.

As he fearfully looked into the eyes that were locked onto his, Blaine inhaled shakily.  
>If he <strong>did<strong> said yes to this, maybe he could get enough money to get by until he somehow found a job. A real job.  
>If he <strong>didn't<strong> say yes to this, he knew that he would end up sleeping on the streets by the end of the week, and who knows what that could lead to.

After a brief moment of silence, Blaine's stomach felt sick as he nervously nodded his head, and broke eye contact with the man. All day long, he had struggled to find any sort of solution to his lack of money, and regardless of how disgusting it made him feel, this offer was the only thing that could actually work. What choice did he have?

Feeling terrified, he blinked back tears and whispered out a timid _"... Okay. I'll do it."_


	3. Chapter 3

Over the past few years, since Blaine's hormones began to kick in, he had often imagined different ways in which he might lose his virginity. Every scenario in his mind seemed like something from an epic romance movie, where he gradually fell in love with somebody, then when the time was right for them both, he would go all out on an expensive dinner, before bringing the man of his dreams home, to a house that had been covered with cute little notes and gestures. Blaine was convinced that when it happened, he would do everything in his power to make it as amazing, romantic, and memorable as possible for both himself, and the boy that he had continuously reassured himself would eventually find a way into his life.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that he might lose it like this.

Memorable was the last thing he wanted this night to be, but before it had even begun, it was clear that this was something he'd never be able to erase from his mind. The drive to the outskirts of the city was a painful one. Several times along the way, Blaine considered telling the man beside him that he had changed his mind, he wanted to leave, and that they needed to pull over. But, being able to think of no solution to his problems, other than going through with this, he remained silent, and focused on nothing but holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.

They pulled up outside a cheap looking motel, and at the sight of it, knowing that his time to reconsider was almost up, Blaine felt his heart sink even more. The man, who had said that he didn't want to reveal his name, stepped out of the car, and instructed Blaine to follow him. _"Huh... so he's ashamed,"_ Blaine thought to himself, as he nervously headed toward the doorway that the stranger had just entered. _"At least I'm not the only one."_

* * *

><p>He walked inside, and before getting the chance to take a proper look at the tattered wallpaper and dusty furniture surrounding him, Blaine heard the door being locked behind him. With fear written all over his face, he turned to meet his client.<br>_"I'm sure I'll be able to get rid of that frown once we start, Bl-... It's Blaine, isn't it?"_ Blaine slowly nodded and said nothing. He just wanted this to be over as soon as possible. The man wasn't particularly bad-looking, and he seemed like a relatively okay person. But that didn't matter. None of it mattered. This was wrong. Blaine wasn't sure which he was holding back more - tears or vomit. He hadn't even done anything yet, but he already felt beyond disgusting.  
>No. He had to leave. He couldn't do this. He - <strong>oh<strong>.

Dry lips were pressed against his own, before he had the chance to object. Blaine struggled not to cry, as he tried to push every thought of how this was his first kiss with a man to the back of his mind. He needed to stop thinking clearly. If he didn't, this would be impossible to endure. It'd be easier if-... was that... pressing up against his...?

Oh.

His stomach sank again, while he was guided backward toward the bed.

Before long, Blaine was lying on his back, after being stripped of his shirt. The man kneeled between his legs, while his lust-dimmed eyes wandered all over the younger boy's body. To say it made him feel uncomfortable would be the greatest understatement ever made. Blaine refused to make eye contact at all, and instead, alternated between keeping his gaze fixed on the walls and the bed sheets. But then, the stranger's wandering eyes were replaced by a pair of wandering hands, and he couldn't help but follow them with his frightened eyes, as they began to trail lower and lower, giving unwanted touches that Blaine wasn't proud enough to protest against.

_"U-um..."_  
>He inhaled shakily after stammering, awkwardly shifting his body slightly. His fear was met with nothing more than a quiet <em>"Shh,"<em>as he felt his jeans being unzipped. For the first time since before they had gotten into the car, Blaine looked directly into the man's eyes, almost desperately. He stared back, and Blaine could have sworn that he noticed the man's face momentarily fall, but he wasn't entirely sure, because as soon as he felt a cold hand begin to slide down his pants, his eyes instantly fixed themselves back on the wall.

The stranger played around with him for a while, ogling him like a piece of meat. Short whimpers of both fear and pleasure, (although it sickened him to admit the latter to himself) escaped his lips, while the man gave his length a few thoughtless strokes. It wasn't for Blaine's sake, though. It was almost as if he was examining what he was paying for.  
>Blaine had said it a few times in the past, but never meant it as strongly as he did now; <em>he literally wanted to die<em>.

Before long, both men were completely undressed, and Blaine had been instructed to get into the right position, because it was obvious that his client was getting a little impatient. Knowing that he had gone much too far to turn back, he swallowed the tiny ounce of pride that he had left, and reluctantly complied, by crawling to the edge of the bed.

Blaine had always wanted his first time to be magical. It was supposed to be with someone he _loved_. It was going to be a night he would_ never_ want to forget. He was going to talk about it with his boyfriend for months afterward, while they cuddled under blankets, and giggled between kisses, watching cheesy movies together. That's what he had always dreamed about.

Instead, it was the worst night of his entire life.

It was far from magical. Blaine lost his virginity while unfamiliar hands kept him bent over the side of a sleazy motel bed. It was rough, and it hurt. A lot. Instead of kisses, smiles, and _"I love you"_s, like he had always fantasised about, Blaine's face had remained buried in the blankets in front of him, where he cried silently, trying to drown out the sound of panting from behind him.  
>Although he wished for this to end over and over again, and was convinced that he would feel nothing but numbness during it, Blaine couldn't help but react, as he felt his prostate getting forcefully hit over and over again. It only took a few minutes for him to groan hoarsely, and come all over the bed sheets – and that's what sickened him more than anything. He didn't want this. It was supposed to be as quick as possible, and he didn't want his body to respond. The numbness hadn't been enough to stop him from getting aroused, even though all of this was entirely unwanted. He had never felt so ashamed of himself, and until now, he wouldn't have thought it possible to feel this low, or disgusting, or useless. But somehow, Blaine Anderson could manage to feel all of those things. <em>Of course he could<em>.

It didn't take long for the stranger to painfully tighten his grip on Blaine's hips and moan louder, fucking him roughly against the side of the bed, until he reached his climax and came inside of him. Blaine winced at the unfamiliar sensation, and tried to calm himself down with the knowledge that it was over, at least.

Once he had quickly gotten dressed, the man gestured to where he had left Blaine's money, trying to hide his guilt as he took one last look at the teenager now curled up on the bed, crying uncontrollably, before leaving the motel and driving away.

* * *

><p>It still hurt. Everything that had just happened was far too rough for his first time, and Blaine couldn't sit properly. This was all wrong. Right now, he was supposed to be falling asleep in the arms of someone he was in love with. He was supposed to be blown away at how amazing the night had been, and how lucky he was to have found his perfect man. He was <strong>supposed<strong> to. But no. Blaine **never** got to experience any of the things that were supposed to happen. He lay still, trying to steady his breath and calm himself, but his attempts were pointless.

Later, he sat on the floor of the motel shower, hugging his knees. The dirtiness that he felt everywhere wouldn't seem to wash off. He used soap over and over again, but the smell of sex and sweat seemed to stick to him. He soon gave up trying, and choked back tears.

Seeing as the room had already been paid for, it made sense for this to be his home for the night. He crawled into bed, unable to ignore the constant reminders surrounding him that this was where everything had happened. The sounds of moaning and panting were still echoing through his mind, so, in an attempt to distract himself, and to see how late it was, Blaine pulled out his phone. _"Mom (1)"_was written across the screen, from a text he had received at some stage during the night.

_"Honey, I know ur upset and that u need ur space, but plz let me know ur ok with a call or text. xxx" _  
>With a sigh, Blaine shakily typed a quick reply, before switching his phone to silent, and turning onto his side, trying not to replay the night's events in his head, as he attempted to force himself to sleep.<br>_"I'm fine, mom. Already made some friends, got a job, feeling better. In bed right now. No need to worry. Make some time for yourself and relax. Love you."_

When he eventually managed to drift off, shortly before the sun rose, Blaine's eyes were swollen, his head hurt, tears were still drying on his face, and he had never, in his entire life, hated himself this much.

* * *

><p><strong>A certain fashion-obsessed boy will be making an appearance very soon. That is all. :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine awoke, after no more than two or three hours of sleep, with sore, stiff muscles that made it impossible to repress the memories of the previous night, which he simply _didn't_ want to think about. He sat up in the unfamiliar bed, squinting as bright light poured straight through the cheap, tattered motel curtains.

His first time was behind him. That was it. No kisses, no smiles, no _"I love you"_s. Nothing but regret. Blaine sat with his face in his hands, trying not to linger on the thought that he would never be lucky enough to experience that special moment – the moment that the hopeless romantic within him had so often dreamed about.

_Maybe, in the future..._ no.  
>No, he wasn't going to delude himself.<p>

The fact that he had completely thrown away what should have been such an important moment in his life hurt, a lot, but in one way, it was a good thing. When the money he had earned had been almost entirely spent, it meant that retracing his steps and making the exact same mistake was easier the second time around.

Blaine had felt completely broken after the first night. Numb, almost. What he considered to be such a significant experience had been completely wasted, but it _was_ behind him. The first time is the biggest step, right? Surely his second time wouldn't affect him _quite_ as much? Blaine wasn't good at anything else, or even properly qualified. He was useless in his own eyes.  
>He needed the money, and honestly, the only things he had been capable of feeling lately were emptiness and tiredness. He saw himself as dirt beneath everyone else's feet for going through with this idea, in the first place. What difference would once more make?<p>

From the second time onward, less thought was involved. He was already torn to pieces, and what harm is there in toying about with something that's already tattered and worn? Nobody would _genuinely_ want it, anyway. Not when it's so used and broken.

So _disgusting_.

* * *

><p>Blaine had always taken a little bit of pride in his intelligence and his ability to learn quickly. Things were no different now that his circumstances had changed. He knew that appearing upset and disinterested during sex would make any of his customers unlikely to return, so he made sure to learn <em>very<em> quickly.  
>Faking moans always satisfied his clients, who all seemed to overestimate their abilities. He discovered the best ways to use his tongue, how to give amazing handjobs, the positions that gave each stranger the most pleasure – but he also found different ways to cope. Other than earning money, and finding out that it was actually possible for some people to consider him <em>attractive<em>, everything that Blaine was doing would be unbearable without some sort of escape.

So, he detached himself from reality.

If Blaine was pressed up against a wall, with unknown hands running all over him, he would distract himself by intensely kissing the stranger's neck and imagining it to be somebody else. When he was pinned down, he would always remember to fake a couple of moans and grind against the man above him. But, in his mind, he would fantasize that things were going slower. Maybe the shady-looking man above him could be someone a little younger. Somebody his age. Maybe right now, they could be making love instead of having sloppy, rough sex, while avoiding each other's eyes.

Maybe that somebody could love him.

_... No_. He was deluding himself again. But while the sex lasted, it was okay to do that. (More than okay. It was necessary.) Blaine needed a form of escapism, and this was what worked for him. Imagining that there were feelings involved in an intimate, beautiful scenario he constantly escaped to in his mind. _"I love you,_" would be whispered into his ear, while in reality, the only sounds that the stranger on top of him made were desperate moans mixed with incoherent mumbles.  
>Blaine never seemed to conjure a face for the boy that he always dreamed was above him. That part didn't matter. The only thing that he truly wanted was somebody who wanted him for more than just his body. Someone who loved him.<br>But, he knew that it was just a thought to prevent him from breaking down in tears; nothing more than a fantasy.

* * *

><p>After being approached by another man, while standing at his usual street corner one evening, Blaine was led down a long alleyway and instructed to get onto his knees. It was dark and seemed fairly secluded, so he complied.<p>

His hair was tugged a little too hard. He struggled not to cough and splutter when the older man began to thrust forward. It was almost impossible to escape to his perfect imaginary setting during this. But Blaine wasn't going to let himself break down. Not again.

He was grateful for the darkness; it made it difficult to notice the tear that managed to escape and silently roll down his cheek.

Some money was handed to him with a mumbled "_here_," and then, he was alone. Blaine stood up and took a minute to try and compose himself. He wiped his lips. He wiped his eyes. He swallowed over and over again to try and get the taste out of his mouth – that _disgusting_ taste – but it wouldn't get any weaker. Then, he took a moment to rest against the wall, but the moment was short-lived. His knees were sore from kneeling on the concrete, and he just wanted to get out of this place that already had a horrendous memory attached to it, and go somewhere nicer. Somewhere that he could be alone; where he didn't have to deal with reality.

With his head down and his knees feeling stiff, Blaine started to make his way out of the alley. Before he could reach the end, however, he heard voices coming from the main street. Then – was that... sniggering? He furrowed his eyebrows and continued walking.

As he reached the end of the alley, the dim light from a street lamp illuminated his path a little more. He could now tell where the voices had been coming from. Three men, who didn't look much older than Blaine, stood where the alley met with the street. Two were leaning against the wall; one was standing in the middle with a smirk on his face, while he looked at the other two. Blaine tried to pay no attention to them, and kept walking with his head down.

_"Guys, you were right. There __**were**__ two of them down there!"_ Blaine looked up to see three faces turned toward him, two of which were quietly laughing to themselves. _"Hey, were you two doing what it looked like you were doing, homo?" _

Oh. So they **had** been able to see.

Blaine's stomach dropped. He said nothing, lowered his head again, and tried to walk past them, but he was shoved back before he reached the street. _"Oh, so you were? It's bad enough that you do that sick sort of shit in privacy, but out here, where we have to put up with it?"_ Blaine's eyes widened. He froze to the spot and did the only thing he could think of doing, when faced with three men who were bigger than him. _"HELP! HELP! SOMEBO-"  
><em>But his shouts were muffled by a hand that pushed him up against the wall. The back of Blaine's head was the first part of his body to make contact with the bricks. He struggled to push the other man away, but it was no use. One remained at the front of the alleyway, watching the street; the other two grabbed Blaine and dragged him a little further back along the alley, where it was darker. He tried to scream again, but he knew it wouldn't be audible in the street, while his mouth was being covered. _"We don't take kindly to faggots like you around here." _Blaine's attempted shouts were instantly silenced when a fist forcefully hit his stomach. He was completely breathless after it, but he still tried to scream.  
>It was no use.<br>All he could do was cry and struggle, then his head was knocked against the wall again, and –

That's the last thing he can remember, before everything turned black.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Blainers, right? Don't burn me just yet. Things might start to look up in the next chapter~<br>It'll be up tonight, too.  
>In the meantime, reviews are nice. :3 <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine awoke. The first thing that hit him was the throbbing pain in his head. He groaned and tried to sit up, but his back had barely curved when he realized how much his stomach muscles hurt as he moved. Instantly, he gave up and lay back down on... was this a couch?

He felt his heart skip a beat as he opened his eyes and rubbed them, trying to adjust to the light. He **was** lying on a couch, in the middle of what appeared to be someone's living room. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Blaine was sure that he had never been here before. Even though it was excruciatingly painful to move, he edged back on the couch a little, so that he was sitting up, able to look around.

As soon as his thoughts became coherent, his face fell. _"Oh my god. They've taken me here."_

It didn't matter how much it hurt, he had to move, and he had to get out. Blaine frantically stood up, wincing at the sharp pain in his stomach when he switched from a sitting position to a standing position. He staggered a little, which caused him to bump into a coffee table. It screeched as it dragged across the floor, and Blaine practically felt his heart stop at the noise it made.

The sound of movement came from the next room. He had been heard. Someone was coming.  
>Blaine clutched his stomach and limped toward the door, and just as he grabbed the handle –<br>_"Hey, whoa, sit down! You're too hurt to be walking around! Oh, god, come here..."_

Blaine slowly turned when he heard the soft, unfamiliar voice. It belonged to a boy who looked no more than seventeen or eighteen. As he stepped closer, Blaine remained frozen to the spot, watching him with wide eyes. _"Come on, get back onto the couch." _Before he had the chance to object, Blaine's left arm was being lifted and hoisted around this new boy's shoulder, while he felt an arm slip around his waist to support him, as well.  
>He panicked and tried to pull away. <em>"Wha– No! Who are you? Where am I?" <em>

The other boy didn't let go.

"_I'm Kurt. Calm down. This is my house. I was out walking and I found you lying unconscious, just down the road from here. I thought you might have been... drunk or something, at first, but you were bleeding and... well... I was worried, so I called a doctor. She told me to make sure you were warm, and that she'd be there soon. So, I brought you inside until she could get here." _

Blaine watched him carefully for a moment. Everything **seemed** to add up. He calmed down a considerable amount, and because the pain was overbearing, he stopped protesting and started walking back to the couch with Kurt, leaning on him for support.  
><em>"How am I supposed to know that you're not... one of them? Where's the doctor? Why –"<br>"The doctor already came and checked you out, before you woke up. She said that everything looked like it'd be okay, and that she'd come back tomorrow to see you again. Nothing too serious, apparently."_ Kurt eyed Blaine curiously after his _'one of them'_ comment, but was intent on getting him to lie down again before continuing any sort of conversation. Blaine's face scrunched up when he had to bend to lie down. Everything looked like it'd be okay? He felt like he could barely move.

* * *

><p>Kurt propped a pillow up behind Blaine's head and sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at him. He was staring up, through terrified eyes, and it was easy to see that he was shaking a little. Kurt frowned, feeling awful about the state that he was in. <em>"Did you get... mugged, or something? Beaten up?"<em> Blaine hesitated before replying. He studied Kurt's face, mostly his eyes, for a moment. He couldn't deny that he seemed genuine. His expression was soft, the sympathy in his eyes was clear and... Wow. He was beautiful.

He quickly considered his options, and honestly, it didn't seem like he had much choice, other than to trust Kurt, and he felt relatively safe about doing so. _"... Yeah. I can't really remember what happened, but they beat me up because –" _He paused. _"Well, I don't know why they did."_ Being gay had landed him in this position. Blaine definitely didn't need anyone else to know.

"_Oh, you poor thing..."_ Kurt had endured shoves and taunts before, but never anything like this. The fearful look in Blaine's eyes cut right through him, and suddenly, his own experiences of getting harassed didn't seem as bad. _"I noticed you limping, but we'll get the doctor to help you a little more with that in the morning, too, alright? You're safe now. That's what matters."_

Blaine stared blankly for a moment. Tears were starting to sting his eyes. Being spoken to like that was completely foreign to him. Why was a complete stranger being so kind? _"I... I don't really know what to say. Thank you."_ He smiled weakly. _"Really, thank you so much." _Kurt smiled back, much more reassuringly. _"Relax for tonight, and please don't walk around unless you __**really**__ need to. You could end up making things worse for yourself. Just tell me if you need anything. My parents and step-brother live here, too, but they're at a football game right now. I said I'd stay here in case you woke up. Besides, football knowledge isn't exactly my forté." _

This type of hospitality was overwhelming. Blaine used every ounce of strength that he had left to prevent himself from crying – and for the first time, he was holding back **good** tears; ones of happiness and gratitude. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt cut across him first.

"_Oh, what's your name, by the way? I've been dying of curiosity all night!"_  
><em>"Blaine. I'm Blaine,"<em> he answered, smirking at Kurt's enthusiasm over something so simple.  
><em>"Blaine. Huh. I like it. My guesses were way off, though. There go all of my dreams of being a psychic." <em>  
>Blaine laughed. A quiet laugh, because his chest was still painful, but even the tiniest laugh would be considered an accomplishment for him. He decided that he liked Kurt's sense of humour.<br>Kurt decided that he liked the way Blaine's eyes scrunched up when he laughed.

"_Do you want something to eat? I'm making coffee, too. Want me to make a cup for you?"_  
><em>"Anything I eat right now would probably come back up, but just coffee would be amazing. Thanks... <em>_**really**__."_  
>Blaine fixed his eyes on Kurt's, and emphasised his last words, trying to get across how grateful he genuinely was. Kurt simply smiled back and gave a little nod of acknowledgement. Then, without another word, he sauntered into the kitchen, humming to himself.<p>

As he lay on the couch, smiling faintly while he looked around the room and waited for Kurt to come back, Blaine tried to remember the last time he had laughed, before today. He couldn't.


	6. Chapter 6

As promised, the doctor stopped by to see Blaine, the following morning. She poked and prodded at him for what felt like far too long, while asking a series of ridiculous questions that he could only assume were to see that he hadn't lost his memory, and that he didn't have any loose screws. She asked for his parents' contact details, too, but he gave her the same excuse that he had given to Kurt, the previous night.

_"Oh my god, I just realized! Your parents don't even know that this happened! Blaine, what's their number? I can call and let them know that-"  
>"No, no. You can't. They're... on vacation. They're in Europe, so they switched to different phones for the few weeks that they'll be over there. I don't know the new numbers off the top of my head..."<em>  
>Kurt hadn't questioned anything.<p>

Once the doctor left, Blaine sat up and rubbed his eyes. He still felt exhausted, even after the decent amount of sleep that he had gotten. The blow that he had taken to his head and the muscle pains in his lower stomach were seriously weighing him down.

* * *

><p>Kurt and his family had gone straight into the kitchen that morning, to let the doctor attend to Blaine. Now that he was on his own, it seemed only right to join them and thank them for being so welcoming. When Kurt's parents and step-brother had arrived home last night, Blaine had already been fast asleep. All three were glad to know that Blaine was okay and resting, but secretly, they all felt a little disappointed that he wasn't awake. They were curious.<p>

He limped toward the kitchen door and knocked gently before entering, feeling a little nervous. The door creaked. Heads turned.  
><em>"Blaine!"<em> Kurt's glowing smile was the first thing that caught his eye. He smiled back, but knew that he should probably address the parents of the house, first.  
><em>"Mr. and Mrs. Hummel? Um, hi, I never got the chance to talk to you guys until now. I just really need to thank you both so much for how much you've all donne for me. I really –"<em> Kurt's father raised his hand, gesturing for Blaine to be silent. _"Kid, firstly, you can call me Burt. Come sit down and have some breakfast while you talk. You must be starvin'!"_Blaine couldn't deny that. He walked to the table, trying to hide his limp, but he could tell that it was still obvious.

He sat next to Kurt, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He owed these people - these _wonderful_ people - so much, but what could he possibly do in return? Feeling almost guilty for the hospitality he was receiving, Blaine took the plate of food that was handed to him, while _"You're sure you're feeling okay, now?"_was asked more than once.

_"So, Kurt told us that you two have a lot in common!"_ Blaine swallowed a mouthful of eggs and raised his head to face the woman sitting opposite him. The pair had spent the previous night getting to know each other a little better. Kurt's fascination with the Royal Family was beyond amusing to Blaine, for some reason. _"Yeah, it definitely seems that way. His Broadway knowledge puts mine to shame, though."_ He glanced to the side, watching the expression on Kurt's face become just a little more smug.

_"Oh, dude, are you gay, too?"_

Blaine chewed his food for longer than necessary before replying. Kurt slapped the arm of the boy to his left, and hissed _"Finn!"_ **That **was it. Finn. Blaine had completely forgotten all of the names that had been mentioned to him, last night. He was watching Blaine sheepishly, smiling a little. It was obvious that the question hadn't been asked with any hint of malice.  
><em>"Uh... yeah, I am."<em>  
>The evening before, when the two had been alone, Kurt hadn't been able to contain a rant about how attractive he found Johnny Depp, when a commercial for one of his movies appeared on TV. Blaine had said nothing, but he hadn't been able to hide the smile that managed to force its way onto his face, at the time.<p>

Letting a family like this, who were obviously accepting of Kurt, know that he was gay didn't seem like an entirely awful idea. He felt much more comfortable around them already.

Blaine focused his attention on his breakfast once more, and didn't see the smirk that Carole shot in Burt's direction, when she noticed Kurt staring across the table at Blaine, after his little "announcement". Luckily for both of the boys, Burt didn't notice, either. Embarrassing conversation avoided.

* * *

><p><em>"Blaine, you can't!"<em> Kurt was glaring at him. One hand rested on his hip, the other was waving about it the air as its owner stressed his point. _"You can't go home to an empty house after taking damage like that to your head! What if you fall unconscious? What if –"_  
><em>"Kurt, Kurt, look..."<em> Something as simple as knowing that he cared was making Blaine's heart swell. Nobody usually cared.  
><em>"I'll be okay. I can't crash on top of you guys forever. You've all done enough for me. Too much, actually."<em>  
><em>"But..."<em> Kurt sighed. "_When will your parents get back from Europe?"_  
><em>"I'm, um... not sure, exactly."<em>  
><em>"Blaine, I've talked to dad and Carole. They don't mind you staying here for a bit longer. The couch is all we have to offer, but, I'd feel better knowing that you're here. If anything were to happen to you while you're alone that could be prevented..."<em> Kurt shook his head. _"No. Seriously, please stay. You can't be alone while you're hurt like this."_

Blaine even lied to try and get around Kurt. He suggested that he could stay with a (non-existent) friend of his family's. That's when Kurt reminded him of one of his earlier lies. _"I thought you and your family didn't know anybody here at all. You said that you just moved here." _  
><em>"Yeah, but... I have a cousin here."<br>"... Blaine, you just told me that it was a friend of the family."  
>"Did I?"<br>"Yes."  
>"I... meant a member of the family."<br>"Uh-huh. Have I told you that you're a terrible liar, yet? Because you really, really are."_

After almost half an hour of trying to get the truth out of Blaine, Kurt finally managed to break him.  
><em>"Fine! ... Fine. I'll tell you. But, Kurt, this is just between the two of us. Please." <em>Kurt nodded and eagerly watched Blaine, frowning at the way his face fell before talking.  
><em>"I... ran away from home. I don't actually know anyone here. I've just been... getting by, I guess, for the past few weeks."<br>_Kurt blinked a couple of times before responding. _"Why?"  
>"Let's just say that my dad isn't exactly the type of guy that'd be happy at the sight of a rainbow flag."<br>"Oh. But... running away from home, I mean, that's... that's pretty serious, Blaine. What if –"  
>"... He called me a faggot and he hit me."<br>_Kurt noticed the way Blaine's voice had just cracked. He froze. For a short moment, he looked sympathetically at Blaine, through widened eyes. Then, without a second thought, he took a step closer and pulled him into a hug.  
><em>"Then you're definitely staying here. I'm not letting you go back to that, or to being stuck with nowhere to go. You're staying with me, and don't you dare attempt to argue." <em>

Blaine held onto Kurt, and refused to let him go. He couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged. He held the taller boy a little tighter than was necessary, but Kurt definitely didn't mind it. It was obvious that this was needed. Kurt was just about to speak again, when he felt Blaine weakly trembling against him. It took him a moment to register what was happening.  
>Blaine was sobbing into his shoulder, and the only thing that Kurt could do was hold him close, whispering <em>"Shh, shh,"<em> reassuringly, and let him cry. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks seemed to hit Blaine at the same time. All of the pain he had tried to bottle up and push into a forgotten place had somehow found its way to the surface.

Blaine never had anyone to turn to, in the past. He was used to crying alone.  
>This felt different.<p>

He clung onto Kurt until his tears eventually subdued. When he slowly lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. They met with Kurt's eyes. Kurt's beautiful, perfect eyes, which he had to look away from. He must have looked awful. Looking at the floor seemed like a better idea, for now.  
><em>"I'm sorry, I didn't... I don't know where that came from, I just –"<br>"Blaine, stop apologizing. Crying is better than letting things build up." _Kurt tilted his head to meet Blaine's eyes again. He noticed how beautifully coloured they were, beneath the pain that was so heartbreakingly obvious in them.

"_You know that I'm here to listen, if you need to talk, right? It really seems like you do."  
><em>He couldn't. Not a chance. Not now.  
><em>"No. I'll be okay. I feel a little better just after crying, and after –"<em> He couldn't say "after hugging you", could he? That sounded a little desperate in his mind. _"After everything you guys have done for me. You, especially. I know it sounds really cheesy, but honestly, you have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you. I'll make this up to you. Somehow. I promise." _

Kurt smiled. _"Well, you'd better get used to it. You'll be stuck with me for a while." _He gently rubbed Blaine's arm in an attempt to reassure him, but found himself having to consciously take his thoughts away from how well-toned it felt._ "... Now, I'll make something for us to eat, okay? And later tonight, I think you and I need to sit down and have a little discussion with my parents."_


End file.
